Constellations

I unwrapped the foil to let the salmon

breathe. I unlocked my heart to

let my words unfurl.

I was told I am a good girl

who attracts all the bad boys

so stop that nonsense. Stop

wanting all the ones who

want more than you. Stupid

to stare at the constellations

and see your eyes everywhere,

it is dumb to hope that you

would burst through my front

door and ask me, “What’s for

dinner?” It is immature of me

to be full of surprises for you

when you hate surprises

and give me dirty looks at parties

if I surprise you with my

flirtations. It is so naive

of me to want to stop time

and stare at the stars instead

of your eyes. You might as well

forget all my poems that are

about sex and lust or my books

that mean nothing when

I am six feet under. I wake up

from my meditation and want

you badly. Who was that singer?

Who was that writer? Where are you?

Are you flying? Driving? Drinking?

Where am I? Am I sleeping?

Teaching? Advising? Lecturing?

At some hotel in some strange room

with myself?

Are you close by

worrying about the traffic jam?

the time between time

when you think of me?

Then I am gone, forgotten.

Until the next poem,

or drive

to an outing

I am not at.

 

 

 

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